


Rain for Tears

by hellkitty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little thing for tf-rare-pairing,  and a 24 hour challenge on writerverse: kind of angsty.  Tactile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain for Tears

The rain hissed on the sheet of metal acting as a sort of roof over the small balcony. It wasn’t posh, by any standards, but neither Nautica or Chromia were going to complain. It was safe, and that was what mattered.

The city was quiet outside, but not the tense quiet of a coming storm, or even the nervous hush of the political intrigue that had thrummed through their first few nights here. It was just a gentle rain, cleansing and almost soothing, like a kind of white noise, wrapping the two in the room like their own little world.

The world wouldn’t last much longer, Nautica knew. Tomorrow she left on the _Lost Light_ , while Chromia stayed here with Windblade. It was their last night together and each had mutely banished any dark thought until tomorrow. Tonight was a night to fill their senses with each other, store up more memories of sound and touch and taste against a long famine.

“I wish it would stop,” Chromia said, sitting up on the berth, looking out at the rain-leaden sky.

“Can’t have everything,” Nautica said, moving the perch next to her, facing the window, where a light breeze stirred the air in the room.

“I just wish we—this—had a sunset for this,” Chromia said. “After all that time in space, I just, you know,…wanted a sunset.” She jutted her lip, in that semi-pout she only showed her closest friends, the one that always melted Nautica’s spark.

Nautica leaned closer, bumping shoulders. “A sunset would be too final,” she said, eventually. “I like this, like you and me alone in the universe.”

Chromia grinned up at her. “You always make the most depressing things sound romantic.”

Well, it was kind of depressing, now that she thought of it. But Nautica was smart, and there was one surefire remedy for a mouth that was bound to get you into trouble: occupy it with something else. Namely, Chromia’s mouthplates. Which were just as warm and satiny as she remembered, parting against hers with just enough shy resistance, like a flower opening from a bud.

Chromia rolled back, pulling Nautica on top of her. Chromia didn’t need to make anything sound romantic, or sexy, or beautiful, or anything. She just was. All of them. As well as fierce and strong and about two hundred different flavors of ‘wonderful’ Nautica hadn’t had time to catalog yet.

But intended to, fully, when she got back. It would be good to go explore, but it was better to have something so wonderful to think about coming back to.

And this was wonderful, beyond wonderful. Maybe she could, on the _Lost Light_ , come up with the right word for it. But right now, she wanted to enjoy.

And Chromia wanted to be enjoyed, tipping her head back, baring her throat to Nautica’s kisses, loosing a sigh as Nautica’s hands spread over her shoulders, finding the tires, thumbs tracing the treads.

“We could—“ Chromia began, one of her slim, strong wrists turning upward.

“Later,” Nautica said. “Later.” Right now, she wanted this, to feel Chromia’s body shift and twist under hers, to feel the electromagnetic field flare and fuzz under her touch, and above all, to watch Chromia let go. Chromia was always so restrained, in public: she took her job as a bodyguard seriously, from training to scanning for threats. But here, with Nautica, she could let go, she could release all that tension, the body that she crafted into a weapon becoming, in these few, small, precious moments, a source of pleasure.

She was always beautiful, Nautica thought, but never moreso than when she let Nautica touch her, let her hands skim over the sleek blue body, the mouth reverent on her chassis, curved armor sliding over curved armor.

The sound of the rain was like a cushion, ionizing the air around them, as though the whole world was filled with their joy in each other. Chromia’s strong hands clung to her, an ankle hooking around Nautica’s, and her voice, so used to shouting commands, became a wanting plea, soft and longing, shaping Nautica’s name, turning the syllables into the best music Nautica could imagine.

It was almost over too soon, Chromia’s systems yielding to her lover’s knowing touches, the charge cascading down her systems, spinning warm pleasure through her body. Nautica could feel the echoes of it, like a soft fuzz against her, a wave of energy cresting and surging over them both.

Chromia gave a soft hum, warm and happy, her arms twining around Nautica’s neck, tipping Nautica’s chin up. Nautica could feel the soft warmth of her optics on her cheekplates, like the tenderest of butterfly kisses, then the slow silk of her own face plates, and then, lingeringly, the soft brush of those satin lips again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Nautica said, and winced, inwardly, that she’d said anything. But that was her: she was the talker. Touching was never enough for her. There was always so much that was beyond that—what Chromia was thinking, feeling, things she could only half-divine.

“Read my mind,” Chromia’s voice tickled against her cheekplate, and she felt the other’s chassis rise and fall in a contented sigh. “You make me so happy.”

Nautica had thought nothing could touch her more than hearing her name on Chromia’s lips. She was wrong, because that sentence nearly brought tears to her optics, shaken loose as the words seemed to drill straight through her. “I don’t…you can ask me to stay.” She would, if Chromia asked. She’d do anything for her.

Chromia’s fingers toyed with Nautica’s helm, the gold well-lines, raising distance between them, her blue optics like lakes under Nautica’s gaze. “I couldn’t,” she said. “It would be selfish, for one thing. And you…you wouldn’t be happy.”

“I’d be happy with you.”

Chromia shook her head, her voice chalky with emotion. “But you wouldn’t be you. Nautica. You’ve always been curious, wanting to explore and see. If I kept you—if you stayed here, you’d be cutting out a big part of yourself. For me.”

“You’d be worth it.” Right now, in the darkened room lit only by their lightpiping and optics, it was like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.

“Then I’ll be worth coming back to,” Chromia said, firmly. And Nautica knew she was right: she could stay, she’d never regret choosing staying with Chromia, but she wouldn’t be…her. She’d always wonder, she’d always ask ‘what if?’. And she knew this happiness, but there were so many things out there she didn’t know that she could almost feel calling to her through the hiss of rain.

“Always,” she whispered, and knew that Chromia was her past, her future, her everything.


End file.
